


Luck

by winterwaters



Category: The Scorpio Races - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 18:33:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/776665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterwaters/pseuds/winterwaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I’ll come back next year and you’ll have a nest of horses outside your window and Puck Connolly in your bed and I’ll buy from you instead of Malvern." -George Holly</p><p>He was right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Luck

**Author's Note:**

> I just love this book beyond words, and I can't even imagine trying to match Maggie Stiefvater's beautiful writing, but I just had this thought and needed to get it out somewhere.
> 
> Also, I borrowed her first line.

_It is the first day of November and so, today, someone will die._

I roll over in bed and reach for Puck. She is curled under the pile of blankets, but her eyes open when I touch her and I know she was not asleep. She shifts closer to me, and her arms snake around my waist. Her nose brushes against my neck as she nestles in further. We lie like this for a long time, past the usual hour.

When Corr makes a noise outside, I reluctantly loosen my grip on Puck, but not before pressing my lips to her wrist once, feeling the pulse there, always so fast and alive. She pulls me close and touches her forehead to mine, and I close my eyes for a moment. Then Corr wails again, Dove joining in his chorus, and I feel Puck smile as her mouth touches mine briefly.

Then she is up also, and the day begins like every other. We feed the horses first, checking on Corr, Dove, and the other colts that now fill our stable. It's small compared to Malvern Yard, but it's ours, and that's really all that matters. 

Puck is warming some November cakes, her hair still wet from the bath, when I hear him outside the house.

"Sean Kendrick! Did I not tell you I would come back for your horses?" 

Puck looks at me, amused and relieved all at once. When George Holly hadn't shown up with the other buyers in October, we'd both been disappointed. Not at the lack of a buyer, but at not seeing a friend. 

Holly continues to talk loudly to the front door. "Did I not say you'd have your own horses and that I'd buy from you? And I hope, from seeing that pony - er, horse - back there, that Kate Connelly also proved me right?" 

At this, Puck raises an eyebrow at me, and I shake my head and open the door to let Holly in. He greets me heartily, then sees Puck and lets out a laugh and a knowing smile at me. He's the same as ever, and I'm grateful for it. 

When he greets Puck, I notice the flash of red on her wrist that I missed before. As she accepts the bread Holly brought, her sleeve catches again, and I see the red ribbons tied around her wrist, just as they were a year ago. She catches me looking while Holly gazes out the window to the horses.

"For luck," she mouths, a ghost of a smile on her face.

I look at Puck in my, _our,_ kitchen, and George Holly by the window, and think of Corr outside. 

For luck, indeed.


End file.
